Stocking Stuffer
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our places of work.
Not a creature was stirring, not even NERC.
The stockings were hung by the smokestack with care.
In hopes that St. Joe soon would be there.
Utility and regulatory leaders were nestled all snug in their beds.
While visions of federal funds danced in their heads.
When out on the beltway there arose such a clatter.
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the Energy Star window I flew like a flash.
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.